


The Curse

by Uthizaar



Series: The Cycle of Theodric [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bottom Corey Bryant, Bottom Liam Dunbar, Bottom Theo Raeken, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Curses, Darach Theo Raeken, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Druids, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Flirting, Imbolc, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Liam Dunbar Has a Big Dick, M/M, Multi, Necromancy, Nemeton, No Chimeras, Pagan Gods, Polyamory, Public Sex, Rimming, Scott McCall Has a Big Dick, Spells & Enchantments, The Hales - Freeform, Top Jordan Parrish, Top Liam Dunbar, Top Mason Hewitt, Top Scott McCall, Versatile Liam Dunbar, Werewolves, cum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uthizaar/pseuds/Uthizaar
Summary: The festival of Imbolc is celebrated as the start of planting, birthing, and fertility, and yet the clan of Scotti is still buried under the winter snow. The druid Stiles calls on his friend, the darach Theodric, to investigate the possible cause, as gods battle and the magic of the land awakens around them in this Historical/Fantasy Teen Wolf AU with deep plot and smut elements throughout.





	1. Late Snows

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct sequel to _The Colors of a Druid_ and _Yuletide_ and part of my year long seasonally updated Druid Teen Wolf story series, in which I transport the characters back to the time of the Celts. I'm trying to maintain some historical accuracy in descriptions of the characters, their names, and locations, but some licence will be taken. I hope you enjoy the story!

Stiles stood next to Scotti at the entrance of the roundhouse, watching the sun glinting off the white ground in front of them. “Hmm.”

“Snow!” Scotti proclaimed, glaring at the sky. “Mere days before Imbolc, and still there is snow!”

“Maybe the gods are angry?” Liam offered, pushing his head around Scotti’s waist as the chieftain eagerly ground his ass back into Liam's bulging cock. “Stiles?”

“Maybe.” The druid grunted noncommittedly. “I’ll cast the augers later to find out. But the ritual sacrifices at Samhain should have kept them happy and in balance. There must be a deeper meaning.” Stiles glanced at the humping warriors and sighed, “Where is Korey?”

“He went to find more tin, that seam near the river is nearly spent.” Liam explained, pulling back into the warmth of the roundhouse, Scotti and Stiles following him over to the fire in the center. “He should return before sunset.”

“If the gods are truly angry, he should not be outside the safety of the village.” Stiles warned him. “Better you go and get Korey now.”

“Take your sword.” Scotti added, glancing at the druid. “What do we do?”

“Foul weather is one thing, but if there are other signs…” Stiles paused, staring into the flames. “We must the visit food stores and talk to herdsmen. And there is another place I must check.”

“Very well.” Scotti nodded, gesturing to the door. “Now?”

“Yes, let me grab my cloak.” Stiles left the chieftain to warm his front at the fire, glancing behind him as Scotti slipped one hand into his trousers and massaged his enormous cock, a gift from the gods. He hid his smile, ducking instead into the small, walled off part of the roundhouse that comprised his sleeping area. The druid reached into the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out his cloak, swinging it around him, thick, coarse wool on the outside, and equally thick, if softer, fox fur lining the inside. He fastened the cloak with a brooch, turning when he heard rustling behind him. “Ah, Malia, are you well?”

“Ciara feels the baby kicking; the others are helping.” She sighed, looking mournfully at him. “Where are you going?”

“To discover the reason behind the foul weather.” Stiles gestured for her to follow, returning to Scotti. “The fires may burn bright and high in the roundhouses, but an unearthly chill invades the bones whenever you leave their safety. Have you felt it?”

“At times, when I’ve gone for water.” Malia admitted, ignoring the chieftain as Scotti grinned at her, quickly pulling his hand away from his enlarged cock. “The other wives will not leave, not with the children so close.”

“Good, they should stay inside.” Stiles nodded, leading the way out into the frigid air, snow falling all around them. There was no wind, but he thrust his hands into the long sleeves of his opposite arms as the chill lanced into his limbs. “The Nemeton grove first, if the gods are displeased, they may make a sign known to us there.”

“Good.” Scotti echoed him, glancing sideways at Malia as they walked behind Stiles. “Ciara has been telling me you’ve been very attentive to her these past few days, thank you.”

“I remember when my mother was with child,” Malia replied, still avoiding his eyes, concentrating instead on Stiles’ back and occasionally glancing at the druid’s face when he looked at them. “I know what to do, what herbs bring comfort, and when the time comes how to deliver the child safely.”

“Oh, err, great.” The chieftain paused, and Stiles rolled his eyes, knowing what was about to come next. “So, you know how babies are born, do you know how they’re made? I can show you!”

“We’re here.” Stiles called out, rescuing the young woman from having to answer. “Malia, remain here. Scotti, come forward.”

“I was just-”

“Forget about your giant manhood for one morning!” The druid snapped at him, patience running thin. “We have already discussed in exhaustive detail the possibility of the Halh clan attacking us; their gods are our gods, and we must keep Aed on our side if they do make war with us.”

“Apologies, master druid.” Scotti replied, chastised. “Do you see anything?”

“No.” Stiles knelt next to the massive oak, shaking his head. He placed a hand against the trunk, an ominous groan echoing around the grove as the sky darkened overhead. The druid gestured for Scotti to rise when the chieftain threw himself flat on the snow-covered ground, the clouds returning to dull white after Stiles removed his hand. “It’s ok, don’t be afraid. The gods are not angry at us.”

“Then what is it?”

“A curse, perhaps.” The druid waved at Malia and started walking again, this time heading away from the forest and the village into the grassy fields that surrounded their holdings. “I will need to check other places to be certain, and even then, I will need time to find from whence it came, and whether it has struck us through accident, misfortune, or malice.”

“Where are we going?” Scotti hurried forward to walk alongside him, shivering when he saw his friend’s expression. “Stiles?”

“To a place I told you never to go. Stay close, both of you.”

 

“This feels _wrong,_ Stiles.” Malia whined, unconsciously drifting closer to Scotti as they huddled together at the edge of the lake.

“And so it should.” Stiles called out over his shoulder. He was standing at the edge of the wooden jetty stretching into the brilliant blue waters of the lake. The sky overhead was a dull grey, but the water didn’t reflect it, currently flowing in a bizarre circular pattern around the central point of the lake, which was completely motionless. Stiles went still, staring into it. “Hmm.”

“I thought you said this lake was cursed, Stiles?”

“It is cursed.” The druid replied, crouching down and extending his hand just short of the water. “The bones of a dozen darachs befoul it, and at the center is a…” He paused, shaking his head. “You do not need to know. The lake will do us no harm if it is not disturbed.”

“Can’t you purify it, like you did with Theodric and the cursed pelt?” Malia asked him.

“I would need the blood and power of a dozen untouched virgins to even begin purifying these waters,” Stiles stood up, making his way back to them. “That’s a bit difficult with Scotti around, hmm?”

“Um, I’m a very loving leader?” Scotti offered, cheeks flushing, even as he grinned openly at Malia and the front of his cloak began to rise. “I can show-”

“The lake is safe: the curse is contained.” Stiles replied firmly, pointing back to the village. “Which means the snows could be simple magic if there are no other signs. We must check the animals and supply stores, I will cast the augers, and hopefully, I will learn the truth of this.”

“You still need to prepare for Imbolc,” Scotti said, rushing after them once he had forced his cock into a more comfortable position, stretching up along his abs. “It’s in two days!”

“Ah, of course.” Stiles stopped, frowning irritably. “Later.”

“What about Yeshua?” Malia asked him, vaulting over a stone wall with ease.

“Yes, where is your acolyte?”

“I sent him to gather seaweed on the western coasts, he’ll be gone for several days.” Stiles replied absently, thinking about the possible curse. “It’s very rare, only appears at Imbolc when the gods are feasting, and the Otherworld is more visible.”

“Seaweed?” Scotti glared at him. “Is now really the time for gathering herbs?!”

“They have medicinal properties, and when brewed correctly can restore, hmm, _potency_ to any failing manhood,” Stiles grinned when he heard Scotti gasp excitedly. “It also has many pleasurable side effects for both men and women, and as I recall, you said that your many wives were beginning to complain at the, um, lengths, they had to take?”

“Oh, Stiles!” The chieftain smiled widely at him, and nudged Malia. “We should try that brew out when Yeshua returns, huh?!”

“Err,” Malia stared at him, and then looked at Stiles, clearing her throat. “What sort of signs are you looking for?”

“Rot, disease, spoilt crops, ruined or wet wood stores.” Stiles replied, the snow suddenly falling thicker and faster when they returned to the village. “It will go quicker if we split up. Scotti, will you speak to the herdsman, please? Malia and I will inspect the food and wood stocks.”

“But-”

“I believe Domhnall is the herdsman today.” Stiles smirked at him, seeing Scotti immediately brighten up, Malia wandering away from them. “A strong, handsome young man like him is always in need of a little warmth from the elements, and the firm, if gentle, hand of the chieftain to let him know he’s doing a good job.”

“You are right, Stiles,” Scotti stood up straighter, both hands disappearing inside his trousers to adjust himself. “He deserves to know just much value I put in him, and how much I want to put inside him!”

“Indeed.” The druid whispered, watching Scotti hurry towards the upper fields, not losing his balance despite the way he was fisting his cock inside his clothes. When Stiles caught up to Malia, he stopped her. “Has he been bothering you a lot?”

“No more than he does to everyone.” She shrugged, the wind picking up and whipping their cloaks back and forth. “And he is better than the others from…”

“I understand.” Stiles nodded sympathetically and gestured towards the nearby storehouses. “Shall we?”

 

Korey shivered through his thick sheepskin cloak, the wind whipping along the frozen river was punishing his exposed arms and face. The smith looked back into the shaft he had dug, extending along the small seam of tin into the riverbank. There was a fire blazing merrily at the bottom, heating the lumps of raw metal buried in the rock. Once the tin had become malleable enough to deform with a poke of his spear, Korey knew he’d be able to extract it. “Just hope the water doesn’t freeze over first.” He muttered darkly, looking at the jugs next to his small camp. The smoke wasn’t rising from within the shaft, hanging in the air at the bottom, but it was too cold to just sit outside, so he crouched inside the entrance, faint touches of heat caressing his legs and arms, even while snow flurried inches from his face.

“Korey?”

“Liam?” He frowned, hearing his name on the wind. Korey stood up, grinning when he saw the warrior approaching along the bank. “Over here!”

“Glad I found you,” Liam smiled as he got closer, eagerly hugging him, and slipping his hands under Korey’s cloak to feel the warmth near his chest. “It’s too cold! Stiles said you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“Why not?”

“He worried about the snow, says it shouldn’t still be like this so close to Imbolc.” Liam joined his friend, squeezing next to him in the mouth of the shallow pit. The extra body was a warm comfort and Liam rested his head on Korey’s shoulder. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Almost.” Korey gestured behind him. “The fires have been burning since just after the sun passed over the trees, the metal should almost be ready to be taken out. Glad you’re here though, it would have been a lot to try and take back on my own.”

“Haha,” Liam laughed at him and sat upright, flicking back his cloak to show off his arms, curling them towards his body to make the muscles more obvious. “I’ll be your pack horse any day!”

“Hmm,” Korey grinned, his eyes fixing on Liam’s arms, and then flicking up to his face. There was a momentary pause before Korey dived on him, playfully wrestling with the warrior, even as Liam let him stay on top. His smile made his eyes twinkle and Korey leaned further into him, capturing his lips within his own, their tongues swiping across each other. “Mmh.”

“If you had stayed a little longer in my bed this morning, we could have done this there.” Liam whispered, their faces still close together, bodies pushed tight, the thickness of fabric impeding the pleasurable press of cock on cock, lust making each buck into the other. “But, we’re here instead: cold death on one side, smoky heat on the other.”

“I always bring you to the best places!” Korey smirked, sitting back up. “Like that time we found the precious stones for Scotti’s cock crown?”

“Uh, you mean when you delved into a creepy, bat-filled cave and left me behind with the wild man who called it his home?” Liam quirked a brow at him. “Or are you talking about when we snuck out of the village at Yuletide because you believed Stiles’ story about ‘midnight gems’ only glowing on the sides of cliffs for a day and night after Alban Arthuan?”

“Well…” Korey looked upset. “I thought those were fun times!”

“Hmm.” Liam grunted, jumping up when he heard a loud crack behind him. “Yah!”

“Oh, the tin is ready.”

“I didn’t know it did that.” The warrior glared at him. “Why didn’t you warn me?!”

Korey shrugged, pointing at the jugs of water next to him. “Pick those up and follow me.”

“Very well.” Liam muttered sourly, trailing after the smith.

“You know, for someone who runs into battle wearing nothing but blue dye, you’re not very brave.” Korey sniggered when Liam clapped him over the back of the head with his free hand. “Wait while I put out the fire.” He splashed his jugs of icy water over the wood, holding his breath as clouds of smoke billowed among them. Liam threw his water at the heated surface and Korey picked up the copper pickaxe, knocking out the rock and metal as the water hissed and sizzled against the wall of the shaft. “Yes!” 

“Wow!” Liam gasped, watching the rock shatter and break, allowing Korey to gather the ore from the earth. “I’ll get the sled.”

 

Liam had just finished dragging the sled up the shallow shaft, now filled with tin ore and rocks, when the gleam of gold caught his eye on the far bank of the frozen river. “Korey? Come up here!” 

“What is it?” The smith scrambled up the shaft and grasped Liam’s out-stretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Do you see that? Over the river?”

“Hmm,” Korey followed his pointed finger, eyes widening when he too saw the flash of gold among the trees. “Yes, I see it.”

“We should go see what it is.” Liam tried to move, but Korey gripped his hand tight and pulled him back. “Hey!”

“Don’t! You said we had to get back to Stiles, and I want to get started on melting the ore, you know that takes days.” 

“What happened to your sense of adventure?” 

“I’m cold.” Korey shook his head when Liam pulled free and ventured onto the ice. “Fine, but don’t expect me to come and rescue your ass!”

“Hah,” Liam snorted, spinning with ease on the slick surface. “My ass is the only thing you’d come and rescue me for!” The warrior turned back around after Korey just glared at him, sprinting across the ice and leaping onto the bank at the other side. The snow was crisp and deep as Liam padded through it, trying not to make any noise other than the crunch of his feet. He lowered his body into a crouched position, like he did when he and Scotti hunted rabbits in the long, sunny days after Beltaine, before diving forward and ducking behind a fallen log when a scene of gleaming gold appeared in front of him. _Wow!_

Two figures with skin that shone like molten bronze in Korey’s forge emerged from the trees, one armed with a long spear and oval shield more ornate and decorated than any Liam had even seen, while the other wielded a long, silver sword. Both warriors wore horned helmets that Liam swore he knew from somewhere, but his attention was diverted when they stepped fully into view, neither of the glowing figures were fully clothed; one was covered in the blue battle woad that Liam himself often wore, while the warrior with the spear had a long, flowing cloak and tunic that only covered his front, muscular arms and powerful legs left free to the swirling snow. They clashed against each other, sword striking shield, and spear thrusting rapidly, yet tasting only air.

Liam watched the display of martial combat with parted lips, peeking above the snow-covered log as it finally hit him. _Gods! They’re actual gods! The helmets…and that spear, he’s so handsome, must be Lugh! But then…is that Ogma?_ He crouched lower when the sword-wielding god struck Lugh’s helmet, a spark of brilliant gold dazzling in the air. The fighting stopped as suddenly as it had begun, Ogma kneeling in the snow. Words were spoken, but Liam didn’t understand them, seeing only the two gods smile at each other and walk away, arms around each other’s shoulders. They vanished a moment later in a flash of golden light.

“Wow!” Liam jumped up, running into the middle of where the two warriors had been fighting. The snow was undisturbed save for a small fragment of gold metal, gleaming nearby. The warrior stooped to pick it up, pausing when the crunch of snow came from behind him. His hand darted instead to his hunting knife, pulling the blade out and turning in one go.

“Ahhh!”

“Korey!” Liam sagged and lowered his weapon, frowning at the smith. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Korey replied slowly, looking around. “I have all the ore, and I got worried about you.”

“Thanks.” Liam muttered, sheathing the knife and bending down to pick up the gold fragment.

“What’s that?”

“You should have seen it! Two warriors, gods, I’m certain, were just here! They had a battle, this came from one of their helmet’s! Lugh’s, I think.” Liam showed it to him, his voice rising in excitement. “Look, Korey!”

“I don’t know,” He stepped back, shaking his head. “You said that the clan could already be feeling the wrath of the gods, I don’t think we should encourage any more.”

“Maybe this will help us.” Liam gestured around them. “There’s nothing else here, they won’t come back for it; it’s just a chip.”

“We should bring it to Stiles.” Korey sighed, nodding at the way back. “He’ll know what to do.” 

 

Theodric grinned as Iordáin kissed his neck softly, his lips trailing a pattern down his skin and across his collarbone. He squeezed the hunter’s ass and groaned when Iordáin bucked against him, their hard cocks leaking onto each other’s torsos, Theodric was shorter than him, but it didn’t seem to matter when they were lying down, his legs open and inviting. Iordáin’s mouth drifted lower again, sucking and kissing across one smooth pectoral muscle and onto his nipple, not quite as stiff as it should be, the air inside Theo’s roundhouse was hot and heavy from the hours they had spent entwined on the bed, the hunter’s weapons forgotten at the door. 

Steam rose from the bath in front of the fire where he had watched Iordáin soak the strain of travel away, their increasingly frequent visits stretching out over days since the passing of the Yuletide. But Theodric cared not for counting the time, he had no chieftain to serve, or village that needed his guidance, all he had to do was wait for his hunter to return to him. The druid was jolted from his pleasant day dream when Iordáin gripped his cock and squeezed the head. “Ah!”

“Drifting away on me, Theodric?” Iordáin grinned at him and pulled himself upwards to crush his lips against the darach’s. “Night is coming soon, and I really should return to the village.”

“Mmh,” Theodric shook his head, smiling as he played with the smooth, strong muscles along the hunter’s back. “Can’t you stay?”

“Well, they are expecting me in a few _days’_ time, I might have ran here instead of strolled.”

“You ran with that boar on your back?” Theodric grinned at him, a flush of warmth firing through his chest when they looked into each other’s eyes. “I suppose that explains the aches and pains, but you have recovered?”

“Enough, yes.” Iordáin smirked when Theodric rocked into him, his cock pressing against his abs as the hunter’s pushed into the cleft of his ass. He paused, gazing at him with uncloaked desire, and then slipped his cock into Theo’s hole, the darach surrendering to him with an arch of his back, his legs spreading as far as possible. “Perfect.” Iordáin whispered, continuing to kiss Theodric, feeling his hands on his back, pulling him closer, his own hand splayed on Theodric’s smooth, muscular chest, his heart pulsing under his fingers.

“Please,” Theodric moaned, closing his eyes as Iordáin pushed all the way in, the potion he had used earlier allowing for the hunter’s thick girth to penetrate with ease, letting him to slip in and out, rocking back and forth as Theodric moaned louder and louder. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Ahh!” Iordáin grunted, sucking on the sweet flesh at the point where his lover’s ear and jaw met, going still when Theodric gasped, holding him tight, his hardness filling the younger man’s ass so completely. His own cheeks were taut and hard, waiting for the moment when Theodric would reach down and pull him closer again, their sign to resume love-making that would spiral and grow for hours and hours, until darkness fell, and the hunter was _forced_ to spend another night in Theodric’s perfect embrace.

“So, this is the renowned hunter!”

“What?!” Theodric pushed Iordáin off as soon as he heard the quiet chuckle from in front of them, grunting as the hunter pulled out too quick. “Ah!” He stared at Stiles’ transparent form in front of him, silver light tracing his features. “You…” Theodric sighed and leaned back, shaking his head when Iordáin reached for his knife next to the bed. “Be still, we’re safe. Stiles, can you not see I am busy?”

“Indeed. But I need your aid. You know curses and foul magic better than anyone, please Theodric, come and help me. This form of communication will not last, there is little time for niceties.” Stiles’ image flickered slightly as Theodric opened his mouth to argue. “Imbolc is almost upon us, and still the snows lie heavy on the ground and show no sign of giving way to planting season. We must do something, I need a darach for balance. Please come, my friend.” The illusion vanished and Theodric shrugged, rolling over and placing his hand on Iordáin’s chest.

“Where were we?”

“Are you not going to help him?”

“Well…”

“You said Stiles was your friend,” Iordáin pulled away from him, and rolled off the bed. Theodric watched as the muscular man walked across the roundhouse to stand in front of the roaring fire, his cock still hard and tip slick. The darach wetted his lips, touching himself and letting his eyes wander up the perfect, smooth form, glowing orange with sweat from the fire. Iordáin caught his gaze and waited for him to look at his face. “Friends help one another, Theodric, even if you are a darach.”

“Iordáin,” Theodric groaned, getting off the bed to stand across from him. “Stiles is the most powerful druid I’ve ever met, even if he doesn’t believe it himself, our teacher saw such potential in him. Whatever is happening to the clan is-”

“Is happening everywhere across the southern lands.” The hunter interrupted him. “I’ve ranged from the shores of the sea far to the west of here, towards the flat midlands and up to the northern pass. And everywhere is buried under snow. Except for the northern lands. Their fields are free of ice, planting has begun, Theodric.”

“How do you know this?” 

“I chased a boar across the divide, over Lugh’s Bridge.” He gestured at the faint white scar along his rib cage where Theodric had healed him. “That was where those warriors ran me off.”

“You said that was the boar.” Theodric frowned, reaching for him, finger tracing over the injury. “Iordáin…” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Iordáin smiled before his expression became more serious. “What does it mean, Theodric?”

“It means that Stiles does need my help, and his fears of war may be coming true.” The darach sighed, gestured at their discarded clothes and furs. “You better get dressed, I’ll need to leave at once.”

“I can come with you?” Iordáin offered. “The trails are dangerous when snow has lingered this long; the wolves will be hungrier than ever. Besides, I have seen the northern lands, maybe I can help in other ways.”

“What about that boar you got me?”

“Throw it in the snow?” The hunter shrugged, “It will keep.”

“Ah!” Theodric grinned at him, eyes sparkling. “But what if I help Stiles, the snows melt, and the boar spoils before we return?”

“Well, put it in salt, or do some druid magic on it!” The hunter sighed, exasperated as he stepped over the bath and into Theodric’s embrace. 

“Druid magic.” Theodric echoed quietly, looking up at the taller man. “I’m a darach.”

“Dark druid magic then.”

“Hmm.” He kissed Iordáin softly, feeling strong arms surround him protectively. “I love you.”

“I know.” Iordáin smiled and tilted Theodric’s face slightly so they could kiss once more. “I love you too.”


	2. Following the Threads

Theodric glanced at Iordáin when the hunter stopped suddenly in the middle of the windswept road, snow fluttering around them. He frowned as a low growling reached his ears. “Wolves?”

“Not just wolves.” Iordáin muttered, gripping his bow tightly. “We should get off the track.”

“The snow is even deeper there.” Theodric objected, struggling forward in the already waist-high drifts. The stars were obscured above them, and wet cold was soaking into his shoes, both of their cloaks heavy with snow and ice. “We should have waited until morning!”

“Too late now.” The older man pointed in the distance, “The river skirts the path over there, if we can make it to the ford, we should be able to follow it to the village, right?”

“Yes, it’s the best way.”

“Stay close, the feral werewolves have already picked up our scent,” Iordáin warned him, plucking an arrow from his quiver and holding it loosely against the string of his bow. “If the gods will it, we’ll make it to the crossing before they attack.”

“And if the gods don’t, I have means of defending us,” Theodric smiled at him. “Don’t worry.”

“Hmm.” He grunted, and they continued to walk through the blizzard, the hunter sensing the hostile presence shadowing them. They had barely made it through the darkest part of the forest when the werewolves attacked. A vicious howl echoed around them, and Iordáin pulled Theodric closer, dropping to one knee in order to steady his shot. He moistened dry lips as the monsters emerged from the trees, eyes glowing an inhuman blue, the leader stalking up the path, eyes burning with red fire. “Those defensives, Theodric?”

“I’m right here.” The darach patted his shoulder, his other hand buried in a pouch by his waist. Theodric grinned, his teeth flashing in the darkness, and threw the fine, black powder upwards, nodding in satisfaction as it fell in a perfect ring around them. “We’re safe.”

“Trapped, more like.” Iordáin winced, watching one of the werewolves throw herself towards them, only to be thrust backwards by a shimmering white and blue mist. He lined up his shot and fired as she scrambled backwards, nodding grimly as the arrow punctured her chest. “That won’t kill her, they’re too strong and I don’t have any poisoned barbs.”

“The lingering snows must have forced them to attack travellers,” Theodric muttered, reaching into another pouch on his belt. “They normally just run away if you try and fight back.”

“I know.” Iordáin fired again, glancing at him. “Can you not use your magic?”

“I am about to!” The darach smiled again, and raised his hand, showing him the smooth, black stone that was in his palm. “Tar amach!” A single, malevolent rune burned in the center of the stone and the ground cracked suddenly behind them, a long, deep scar forming as the road split in two and _something_ heaved itself out from the earth. “ _Iad a mharú!_ ”

Iordáin watched in horror as the grey form shuffled across the road, following Theodric’s pointed finger. It was wearing ragged battle armor and a helmet adorned in spikes and horns, dragging a bloodstained sword from the scabbard at its side. “What monster is this?”

“A Revenant.” Theodric watched in cool detachment as the werewolves fled before the undead horror. “An ancient warrior pulled back from the Otherworld to fight once again. He is bound to my will, the first of many, perhaps.” The hunter was looking at him strangely, Theodric realizing a moment later that it was in fear. “Be still, I do not have the power to call so many forth to form an army, but just enough to ensure we are safe. Stiles has his war-bear, I have my Revenant.” 

“They’re all gone.” Iordáin whispered, not replying to Theodric’s words. “We are safe.”

“I told you.” The darach smiled and turned to the monster, holding the stone up in one hand and using the other to point into the still-riven ground. “Return to your grave for now, until I call you once again, _dul a chodladh._ ”

“We should keep moving.” 

 

Stiles nodded sagely as he listened to Liam and Korey recount their adventure to him and Scotti, the younger warrior speaking quickly and tumbling over his words often enough that Korey kept having to cut across him to explain what Liam was talking about. “Gold?”

“Golden!” Liam nodded furiously, digging into his pocket to show Stiles, “This warrior was, they both were, covered in a golden light, like, like, um-”

“A golden mist.” Korey said as Liam struggled with the description. “I saw it too, but I did not want to approach, I thought it might be dangerous.”

“That was wise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Liam glared at the smith, offering the fragment of Lugh’s armor to Scotti and Stiles, the metal gleaming in the light of the fire. “I would never have got this if I had just stayed and dragged the ore back with you. They were the gods, fighting each other, Lugh and…some other.”

“Ogma.” Stiles nodded, “Based on your description of him, that makes the most sense.”

“How do you know it was Lugh?” Scotti asked, accepting the fragment from Liam. “It’s still warm!”

“It was in my pocket.” Liam replied slowly, glancing at Stiles. “He matches the image you painted of him in the stories you tell us; the battle with Fomorians, and when he joined the Court of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

“Really handsome and muscular, then?” Korey asked with a smirk. “Not wearing much, but has everything on display? A very, um, _long_ sword?!”

“What?” Scotti’s head snapped up and he stared at Liam. “What did you do?!”

“Nothing! I was just looking.” Liam protested as Stiles laughed quietly. 

“Very well, enough.” The druid reached out to grip each of the warriors’ arms in a calming gesture. “I’ll take the armor fragment, maybe when the snows clear and you get the ore melted, Korey, we can forge it into a weapon. Which is something we’re going to need, I fear.”

“I thought you said you were not sure if it was a curse, Stiles.” Scotti looked at him, jealousy forgotten. “You think the Halh clan is behind this?”

“I am unsure yet,” The druid sighed, turning and gazing into the flames. “The augers were unclear when I cast them before sunset, but I have reached out to the darach, he should be soon.”

“Theodric?” Scotti frowned, “Why do you need him?”

“If this is a curse, it’s powerful, and I need him for balance. Besides, two druids, dark or light, are better than just one.” Stiles glanced at him. “You are worried?”

“What if he wants payment? There are barely enough warriors to sate _my_ appetite right now!” Scotti wailed, unconsciously rubbing a hand along the shape of his cock under his cloak. “I can’t spare anyone!”

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Stiles smirked at him as Liam and Korey shared a worried glance. “Theodric no longer will want payment in flesh, but I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that satisfies us all.” He held up a hand, nodding at the door. “There’s someone outside?”

“It’s Theodric,” Scotti nodded, his nostrils flaring. “And someone else, a man, I don’t recognise him.” He gestured for Liam and Korey to go to the door. “Let them in.”

 

Theodric moved forward to greet Stiles, seemingly surprised when Korey got to him first, the smith pulling him into a tight hug, his youthful face lighting up with joy. “Good to see you too, Korey.”

“It’s been too long!” He grinned and released Theodric, holding onto his wrists affectionately. “I wish I could have seen you at the Solstice, but I was sick.”

“Much better now, I’m sure.” Theodric returned his smile and nodded at Liam and Scotti, before turning to Stiles, the druid greeting him with a short bow that the darach mimicked. “The occasion is grim, my friend, but my heart is warmed to see you.”

“Likewise, Theodric.” Stiles replied, bleak expression softening. “I am glad you came as quickly as you have.”

“You can thank Iordáin for my haste.” Theodric looked behind him to where the hunter waited by the entrance to the roundhouse and beckoned him forward. “Come.”

Iordáin placed his bow and quiver against a supporting pole and moved towards them, bowing respectfully at Stiles, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck and across his cheeks as he recalled their earlier meeting. He stopped in front of Scotti, and knelt down on one knee, keeping his eyes downcast. “Honor to you, Chieftain Scotti, I am Iordáin of the mountain clan, and I offer greetings to all of the big-dicked clan. Tales of your legendary fertility and manhood have spread far and wide across the land!”

“Uh,” Scotti stared at him before looking desperately at Stiles for help. “I, I don’t…thank you?”

“Iordáin,” Stiles moved quickly over to him and pulled the hunter to his feet. “While the Chieftain is honored by your words, it is not our custom to kneel before him.”

“Unless it’s late at night,” Liam muttered, causing the others to laugh, the tension broken. “It’s true!”

“Apologies,” Iordáin replied, reaching into a bag on his belt and pulling out a small, golden torc. He offered it to Scotti. “Our clans rarely meet, but perhaps this token will be the first of many interactions.”

“Wow!” Scotti accepted it excitedly and slipped the twisted ropes of gold onto his wrist. “Thank you!” He hugged the surprised hunter and then rushed off, “Ciara! Malia! Look what I just got!”

“Um?” Iordáin glanced at them as Stiles shook his head ruefully and Korey and Liam sniggered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Scotti just doesn’t get many gifts,” Stiles patted him gently on the shoulder. “At least, not the kind that, hmm, can’t be swallowed!”

“Oh, very well.” Iordáin looked at Theodric, the darach gripping his bicep affectionately as they cast off their cloaks. “I always keep a small supply of our smith’s wares on me, in case I meet a trader, or another clan.”

“They’re very talented.” Theodric nodded, fingering the gold band around the hunter’s own arm, smiling at him. “Go with Liam and Korey; rest, eat, I will speak with Stiles and return for you later.”

“Of course.” Iordáin leant in to kiss him, eyes closed as Theodric responded to him, sliding one hand further along his arm and smiling against his lips when they shuffled closer.

Stiles cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Theodric, “Potential curse, dooming us all to endless snows, remember?”

“I’m coming.” The darach swung his cloak over his shoulders and followed Stiles outside into the frozen night air.

“This way,” Liam said, gesturing for Iordáin to follow them deeper into the roundhouse. He left Korey to push the hunter onto a bench next to the fire and returned a moment later with food and mead, nodding as Iordáin took a goblet for himself. “You travelled through the night to get here?”

“Yes, the path was mostly clear, some thick drifts now and again,” Iordáin drank down a mouthful of the liquid, accepting the farl of bread from Korey, the two younger men sitting opposite him, their arms pressing together in a way that was familiar to him. “Only one patch of trouble and Theodric took care of that.”

“What was it?” The smith asked, clever eyes darting across Iordáin’s body, taking in the long hunting knife at his side, the layered tunic and cloak that wrapped across his torso, muscular arms tanned from long days under the sun. “Wolves?”

“Werewolves.” 

“Really?” Liam glanced at Korey and then they both looked at him. “You don’t seem scared.”

“Theodric was with me, darachs are powerful.” He took a mouthful of the soup they had placed in front of him, adding, “Besides, it was not my first encounter with such creatures. They normally run from hunters, though I have killed several.”

“Really?” Korey echoed Liam. “I thought only druids or darachs could kill them?”

“I don’t have magic, but with enough preparation, anyone can kill a werewolf.” Iordáin smiled at their expressions. “It takes some herbs, a special flower, and some skill, but the task is simply enough. I can show you if you want?”

“Yes!”

“Sure!”

“Very well, in the morning, perhaps?” He clinked his goblet against theirs as they held them out to him. “I am not sure if your forest has what I need, I do not normally roam this part of the southern lands.” 

“You have travelled to lots of places?” Liam asked, pressing closer to Korey as they both leaned in. “What have you seen?”

“Hmm, I have travelled across the great marshlands to the east of here, along heather-bound trails that the warriors of old once walked. I have climbed the tallest reaches of our mountains and drunk the freshest spring water you can imagine, gazing across the majesty of countless islands spread out over a single bay.” Iordáin smiled at the memory, as they grinned at each other. “But I have also encountered wild-men along the coast, who feast on the raw meat and plants they rip from the cliffs they inhabit, I have seen werewolves hunt like animals on all fours, and dance under the moonlight as though they were men again. I have seen all these things and more.”

“Will you tell us a story?” Korey asked him, his voice high with excitement. “We rarely get to leave but I want to see the world!”

“Very well,” Iordáin began. “I was standing on the shores of the great western sea when a man approached me with a bulging sack and only one eye…”

 

“The gods are silent.” Theodric muttered, lifting his hands from the Nemeton. “Not even Donn responds to me.”

“I warned you.” Stiles replied, frowning as he thought about what the darach had told him. “You are certain that it was the Halh clan that wounded Iordáin?”

“Certain? No, of course not.”

“But he crossed the divide?”

“Yes,” Theodric’s expression hardened. “Don’t you believe him?”

“I do,” Stiles raised his hands meekly. “And I value your word enough that he can be trusted too. But this means that the vision I received from The Dagda will come to pass.”

“Have you discussed the possibility of war with Scotti?” 

“I have.”

“And?”

Stiles shook his head irritably. “He has no appetite for war, only for fucking. I fear that we may have been too generous in gifting him so much prowess at Samhain. The Chieftain can and will fight, but we cannot look to him to lead, to inspire.”

“Who then?” Theodric smirked at him. “You?”

“No,” The druid looked back towards the village, snow still fluttering around them. “The warriors respect Liam, and with Korey at his side, I can see him having the support of all the clan. Scotti will follow him, if only because it means more time to spread his seed and indulge in both male and female desires.”

“Liam.” Theodric frowned. “There is much youth in him yet.”

“Such is the fate of a village without children, and the elders taken all before their time.” Stiles shrugged, gesturing for them to return. “Scotti and myself are the oldest of the clan, and that means the burden of taking care of them all falls to-”

“You,” He winked at Stiles. “I remember how it was, and still is, judging from the dark rings under your eyes. If Scotti is implanting his seed into every member of the clan, has he not filled you with cheer too?!”

“No.” Stiles replied sternly. “I cannot, a druid must remain mysterious and aloof, someone to be trusted to make judgements and hold the law, to know herbs and healing, when the plants must be sown and gathered. He cannot be see with his ass in the air, getting ploughed by the Chieftain!”

“I suppose that would leave you open to whispers.”

“Hmm, I had thought…but with Iordáin…” Stiles glanced at him as Theodric smirked. “You don’t need to look so smug, it was a passing fancy.”

“I could ask him?” The darach raised a brow as Stiles hesitated, “Regardless of such things, do you know how to defeat this curse?”

“You know that it’s a curse?”

“For certain,” He nodded, looking back at the Nemeton. “Donn will always reply, and this curse has cut off our access to the gods it seems. Thus, the snows do not melt as they should, and the weather entombs the entire land in ice.”

“How are we meant to combat that power?” Stiles groaned. 

“Sacrifice?”

“There is no one left to sacrifice, and I would not do so, not yet.” Stiles refused, shaking his head. “Dictone did not inscribe his knowledge into solid rock like the darach who built your home, Theodric, but he still left some records behind.”

“Are they in his tomb? I don’t want to have to return there.”

“Be still, I had my acolyte retrieve them after my return from the Solstice,” Stiles explained, pausing outside the roundhouse. “We will examine them tomorrow, and hope that our old master has some way to break this foul curse!”

“We will find a way, Stiles.” Theodric placed his hand on the druid’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “After all, I’m here now!” 

 

Stiles gestured for Theodric to follow him across the snow-swept center of the village, past the gathered mound of firewood for the great Imbolc bonfire, and into a small, cramped roundhouse at the edge of the settlement, the sun barely risen above the horizon. “Dictone preferred to live alone, as you recall, but it is better for me to remain with the clan.”

“In case Scotti gets out of hand?” Theodric smirked, “I imagine that is easy to do!”

The druid simply looked at him and went inside. “They have risen by now, but I want to get an early start on the runes, with Imbolc tomorrow, we have little time to waste on absurdity.”

“Of course, Stiles.” Theodric shook his head and followed him inside, “Are you upset?”

“Angry. Scotti and Liam can protect the clan from war and famine, but it is my duty to protect them from the gods’ wrath, and the influence of our enemies.” He picked up a stone tablet and laid it on the table in front of them, the flicker of flames from the fire nearby danced across the polished surface. “I will not fail them.”

“I understand, somewhat.” The darach smiled at him and reached out to grip his shoulder. “But curse-breaking will require us both, so, I will wait for as long as you need me.”

“Thank you.” Stiles nodded, scanning his eyes over the runes in front of them, Theo muttering translations quietly. “Here, I think.”

“Yes, the rest is about transformations between man and beast.”

“Sky-curses, but too much sacrifice needed.” Stiles shook his head, pointing to another slab of rock by the door. “Get that one.”

“Very well.” Theodric bent down to lift the hunk when he froze, staring at the center of the village. “Um, Stiles?”

“What?”

“Is Scotti meant to be helping out the others with the preparations for the festival?”

“Yes, he’ll carry out the rest of the tables and set up the food, we’re using one of the old storage huts to keep all the mead in.” The druid explained, walking over to the door. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the chieftain, standing next to the unlit bonfire in nothing but his golden jewellery and fur boots. “Well, that’s a very clear signal.”

“It is?” Theodric glanced at him, and then back to the way Scotti was slowly rubbing one hand over his bare chest, the other milking the head of his long cock. “What does it mean?”

“Whoever wishes to…please the chieftain and earn some favor is more than welcome!”

“Isn’t he cold?”

“He’ll be inside something warm quite soon!” Stiles smirked at him and bent down to lift up the slab with Theodric. “It has become a regular occurrence since three of Scotti’s wives have become heavy with child, and no longer able to manage his great manhood.”

“I bet.” Theodric whispered, glancing outside to see the other clan members emerge from the roundhouse and pass by Scotti, a few stopping to fondle his cock and leave the chieftain groaning obscenely for more. “He could be a distraction.”

“I thought you had eyes only for Iordáin?!” The druid quirked a brow at him and splashed water on the rock, making the ruins clearer.

“I do, but I also have _eyes_ , Stiles.” Theodric’s lips twitched, but he stood next to him, and nodded. “Here, this is one a possibility…”

 

Korey poked Iordáin in the back when the hunter stopped dead outside the roundhouse, blocking the door. He glanced at Liam and shrugged. “Um, what’s wrong?”

“Is that normal?” 

The two young men looked around him and nodded. “Yes, doesn’t your chieftain do that?”

“Not in the middle of the village.” The hunter frowned, moving slowly forward as the sounds of flesh slapping flesh became louder and more pronounced, interrupted by the high panting and needy moans of Scotti and the herdsman, crook lying on the snow next to him. “We are on a mountain, I suppose, it would be colder, and windy.”

“That must be it,” Liam agreed, watching Domhnall arch his back and impale himself harder onto Scotti’s cock, the tanned youth gripping the barrel of water in front of him, cup forgotten. The Chieftain’s pace was smooth and even, yet still rough and hard, his hips snapping back and forth, strong ass cheeks propelling him deeper into Domhnall, even as Scotti ran a hand over his torso and tweaked his nipples, erect in the cool, wintry air. Liam glanced at Korey with a sneaky grin. “Should we go help him? Scotti must not have got any relief last night!”

“Well, I was buried in your ass for most of the night.” Korey replied, smirking when Iordáin flushed. He shrugged in the hunter’s direction. “I guess Theodric didn’t tell you anything about our customs, huh?”

“Not much, only what I’ve heard from other travellers and hunters.” Iordáin said, his eyes still fixed on the rocking couple in front of him, the herdsman’s hand now between his legs, working furiously as Scotti stopped fucking him suddenly, his ass clenched tight and face up-turned.

“Aww, we missed it!” Liam grumbled, sighing as Domhnall shot his seed all over the snow in front of the water barrel, and Scotti pulled his impressive length out of his ass with a cummy squelch, smearing the final creamy drops all across the herdsman’s crack and cheeks. Scotti leaned in to reach around and take a handful of Domhnall’s cum from his still dripping head and used it to tease his own cock back into half its full state. With a satisfied grunt, the Chieftain slapped Domhnall’s ass and went over to pick up a barrel of mead where he had left it in the snow, the other villagers continuing along as though nothing odd had happened.

“I can wait if you two need to, um, relieve yourselves.” Iordáin offered, seeing the way both Liam and Korey were fondling their cocks openly. “I’ll see if Theodric-”

“No,” Korey pulled his hand from his trousers and smiled at him. “We’ll do that later, you said you were going to show us that trick for killing werewolves?”

“Yes! Please show us!” Liam added, grinning. “Maybe you have other skills to show us? We don’t have any hunters in our clan, Scotti does hunt with me sometimes, but all we catch are rabbits, and he eats ten of them! We never get to keep any to raise.”

“Very well,” The hunter nodded, smirking at their excited expressions. He held up a hand. “Just to be clear, I don’t want anything in return for this.” Iordáin looked meaningfully at their bulges.

“Oh, if you wish.” Liam replied, not hiding his disappointment as they followed the handsome man out of the village and into the forest.

 

“See the tracks over there, in the snow?” Iordáin pointed to Korey’s left. “Deer, pregnant, I’d say, the prints are a lot deeper than you normally see. And here, the bark has been torn off.”

“So, something was chasing?”

“No, deer sometimes eat bark, if there’s no other food around.” The hunter continued walking through the forest, his body angled low, head and eyes moving as he watched for prey or danger, his hands spread out, the bow held loosely in his left. Liam was mimicking him, but Korey kept sniggering whenever he saw the warrior try and match Iordáin’s silent footsteps, crunching loudly through the snow instead. “Stop. Be quiet.”

Korey looked around cautiously, hearing nothing at first, and then the slow crackle of snow as it slid off a tree nearby. The hunter straightened up, gesturing for them to do the same. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I thought it might be a wolf or…something else, but it’s just the snow.” He nodded at a fallen tree. “Let’s try over here, the flower is blue, with very distinctive little cups hanging down from it.”

“Stiles has never mentioned it.” Liam walked beside Iordáin, glancing at him every few seconds. “Do druids know about wolfsbane?”

“They do, but they have their own power to destroy werewolves, and the flower can be hard to find.” 

“Oh, but-” Liam cut off suddenly as he lost his footing while gazing at Iordáin’s face and fell into a snow drift. “Ah!”

“I have you,” Korey laughed, pulling the unfortunate warrior out and dusting the snow from his head, Iordáin smirking, but continuing on to investigate the fallen trunk. “I am right here, why are you being so obvious?”

“I’m not!”

“Gods! You’re hero-struck?” Korey grinned wider, unable to stop giggling when Liam glared at him indignantly, still covered in snow. “Iordáin has made himself very clear, Liam, and besides, Theodric would probably curse you into the Otherworld if you tried to touch his lover, haha, actually, try it, I want to see what he’d do!”

Liam glowered at the smith but stopped when Korey crowded him and kissed his lips sweetly. “Oh,” He muttered, eyes on the ground. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” Korey caressed his cheek affectionately, touching their foreheads together. “This is funny!”

“Grr,” Liam pouted at him, moving away and went over to Iordáin, crouching next to him. “Did you find it?”

“Yes, see?” Iordáin pointed into the trunk but grabbed Liam’s hand when he went to touch it. “No, leave it, we’ll get it later; the poison is best when the flowers are freshly crushed. I was unsure if we would find any; it grows plentifully in the meadows near my village.”

“What next then?”

“We should continue foraging, Theodric told me that the food stores have been spared this curse, but the feast may be sparse tomorrow.”

“The gods won’t like that.” Korey muttered, joining them as they walked deeper into the woodland. “But what can we do, everything is dead.”

“Sleeping, the forest is sleeping, not dead.” Iordáin smiled at him, stopping next to a thicket of tall red stems and large, woolly, heart-shaped leaves. “This is burdock: the roots get hard during the snows but boil them in water and you’ll have a tasty snack. And over here, under the oak,” He bent down and started to push back the snow with the flat of his hunting knife, grinning when several hard, wooden-looking, acorns appeared. “Some of Lughnasa’s bounty remains, they also must be cooked, but if you know where to look, food can be found all around us.”

“Wow!” Liam stared at the taller man in awe until he was nudged sharply by Korey. “Um, I mean-”

“Shh!” Iordáin motioned for them to crouch down, holding a hand to his lips and then gesturing for them to move forward with him. “This way…”

 

Korey glanced at Liam as the three of them straightened up, staring at the sight in front of them; an active fairy mound. The hillock reached over Iordáin’s head and was covered in thick, sparkling green grass, a mess of wildflowers adorning the top, and trailing down the stone walls to the earth around the structure, free from ice and snow. It even felt a little warmer as they approached the fairy mound. Korey moved forward, trying to peer into the darkened tunnel that led deeper inside, while Liam shook his head and hung back.

“I don’t like this, we should leave.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Korey grinned at him. “Just yesterday you saw the gods doing battle, let’s see what’s inside!”

“We should return to the village, it’s after midday,” Iordáin supported Liam, beckoning Korey back. “Theodric and Stiles may need us.”

“I suppose.” Korey muttered disappointedly, turning away. He glanced back at the mound and let out a shriek. “AHHH!” The smith ran behind Iordáin and grabbed Liam, pulling him protectively against the hunter’s broad back. “Monster!”

“Be still.” Iordáin whispered, spreading his hands and lowering his bow to the ground.

“What are you doing?!” Liam hissed at him, peering around the man’s muscular back at the strange creature. It was about the same size as him and Korey, barefoot and bare-chested, peering at them with curious, bright eyes, its flesh the color of darkly tanned leather.

“It’s a member of the aes sídhe; the Fair Folk.”

“A fairy?!” Korey whispered, looking around Iordáin’s other side, his voice tinged with wonder. “Wow!”

“Greetings!” The fairy smiled at them, and stepped forward from the entrance to the mound, revealing that he was barely dressed; little more than a vine and leaf loincloth around his waist, the masculine cut to an otherwise boyish face confirming that the creature was indeed a “he.”

“What do we do?” Liam clutched Iordáin’s arm, peeking around him. “Attack? Run?!”

“Be still, I mean you no harm.” The fairy continued moving towards them, pausing at the edge of the earth, frowning at the snow around him. “Strange, the outside world has not awakened from Yuletide’s grip?”

“There is a curse upon the southern lands,” Iordáin replied when the fairy looked at him. “Our friends are trying to break it.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you have a name?” Korey called out, stepping away from Liam even as the warrior tried to grab him desperately. “I am Korey, Liam is the one hiding behind Iordáin.”

“You may call me Macen.” He nodded and smiled again, white teeth startlingly contrasting with his dark skin. “Who are your friends to try and undo such a curse?”

“A druid and a darach,” Iordáin answered, nodding for Liam to come out. 

“Good, balance is important.” Macen smiled wider, looking between Liam and Korey. “Do not be afraid, I have seen your village, though never gone closer than the forest’s edge. Your clan values love and sharing, do they not?”

“They do.” Liam replied cautiously, stepping forward, his fingers dancing along the hilt of his sword. “Of a kind.”

“Yes, I know.” Macen’s eyes gleamed perceptively and he looked directly at Liam’s crotch, the warrior’s cock stirring in response to his anxiety. The fairy pulled his eyes away from the sight as a similar reaction happened under his loincloth and instead glanced at the hunter. “Do your darach and druid want help in their efforts? We would like to dance and play and frolic in the spring meadows with your clan, but not in the snow!”

Korey exchanged a look with Liam and Iordáin, nodding slowly. “We can certainly ask them.”

“Oh, good!” Macen replied in a sing-song voice, gripping his cock excitedly as Liam and Korey stared at him. “Then we shall frolic together, my friends!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tar amach" means "Come forth."
> 
> "Iad a mharú!" means "Kill them!"
> 
> "dul a chodladh" means "go to sleep/bed."
> 
> Dictone: Deaton.
> 
> Lugnasa (Celtic Harvest festival).
> 
> aes sídhe (say it: ace shee): fairies (or elves) who live underground in the fairy mounds. 
> 
> Macen: Mason.


	3. The Shadow of Our Enemy

“The Fae cannot be trusted.” Stiles shook his head. “They are tricksters at heart.”

“They care little for the lives of men.” Theodric added, glaring sternly at Liam, Korey, and Iordáin standing in front of them, the afternoon sun poking through the clouds. “They seek only their own pleasure!”

“Do not go frolicking with them!”

“They say that they’ll help you, but before you know it, all the milk will have gone sour and they’d have made off with your sheep!”

“Err…” Korey glanced at Liam as the druid and darach continued to bicker about the trouble of cavorting with fairies. “He said he could help us with the snow.”

“What sort of help?” Theodric broke off his tangent over the stolen sheep and looked at Korey suspiciously. “What he want in return?”

“Macen didn’t say.” Iordáin replied, raising his hands to calm them down. “Only that he would speak to his people and convince them to aid us. I explained that you were trying to find a way to break the curse.”

“On that at least, we have succeeded.” Stiles nodded, glancing at Theodric, the darach’s expression glum. “But without access to the gods, we cannot entreat them for the power we would need to wield in order to perform the ritual of breaking.”

“What are you thinking of doing instead?” Liam asked slowly, unease gripping his stomach.

“The ritual can be fuelled by blood, sacrifices would be usual, but there are none remaining who can serve as such, _thank you, Scotti._ ” Stiles muttered the last words darkly, pulling out his knife. “I will shed my own blood to provide the power for Theodric to perform the counter-spell, if we do it under the Nemeton, he will have his connection to Donn restored immediately and perhaps be able to revive me.”

“What?!” Korey shouted, echoed by Liam a moment later. “You can’t do that, we need you!”

“Stiles, you’re the only druid we have!”

“You should consider their offer at least, Stiles.” Iordáin said. “And you are too valuable to this clan to sacrifice yourself for the entire southern lands.”

“I agree.” Theodric nodded, siding with the others as Stiles scowled at him. “We hear them out, we do not trust them, and then we decide what is the best course for the future.”

“Hmm, I suppose we can spare the time. The counter-spell must be performed under the light of the stars, and the sun has not yet set.” The druid sighed. “Bring me to the mound.”

 

Stiles glanced at Liam and Korey as they led them through the forest, the setting sun glinting off the fresh snow that fell around the party. “Tell me again, this fairy-”

“Macen.” Liam cut across him rudely, casting his eyes down when the druid glared at him. “Apologies.”

“Hmph.” Stiles took a breath and nodded. “Macen, very well, tell me what he looked like. If he has seen our village, perhaps I know of him.”

“How?”

“Dictone trusted their judgement, much to his detriment, and that of the local sheep population.” The druid muttered, ducking a branch. “What color was his skin? Different tones dictate different ranks within the Fae kingdoms.”

“Um, almost black, but not like charcoal or the gloom of night, more like deeply tanned leather.” Liam explained, flushing as he thought about Macen’s body, hard and muscular, the fairy’s sizeable manhood sliding out from under his natural loincloth... “Huh?”

“I asked if he was armed?”

“Oh, um, no.” Liam blushed deeper, hearing Korey sniggering at him. “At least, well, Scotti would like him!”

“Is it something in the water?” Iordáin whispered to Theodric as Stiles and the younger men continued to speak about the fairy’s cock, Korey gesturing wildly. “I know their clan is young, but never have I encountered a village so free with their affections.”

“Trust me, it gets grating after a while.” Theodric smiled at him, and slipped his hand into the hunter’s free one, trailing his fingers up Iordáin’s arm as he did so, stopping only when he reached his bicep. “As much as I value Stiles and our renewed friendship, I cannot wait until we return to the mountains!”

“Perhaps you would stay with me on occasion?” Iordáin asked him, slowing enough that only Theodric could hear him without falling too far behind Stiles. “My village would welcome you with open arms, we have no druid, no darach, not since the last was killed in a landslide.”

“I am at the foot of your mountain.” The darach pointed out with a frown. “Is that not-”

“I want you to be closer.” He replied honestly, gripping Theodric’s hand. “I have no family, and even if the clan are less…free with their affections than Scotti’s, no one would challenge you, especially not one with control over the dead such as you, Theodric.”

“I…I will think on it.”

“Good, we’re nearly here.” The hunter smiled and nodded at the fairy mound through the trees, still looking as though it was in the heights of summer, a long, hot day coming to a close as amber sunlight streamed through the heavy oppressed clouds, Fae magic creating the illusion. 

“Keep your bow to hand,” Theodric whispered to him, glancing at Stiles, Korey, and Liam. “And you should have your blades close, if the fairies attack, fall behind us and pray that they are weakened by the foul weather.”

“Agreed.” Stiles nodded, and knelt in the snow, placing his hand against the frozen earth. “They will use nature against us, I will try and counter-act it, but we would be better to flee.”

“Be still, I mean you no harm!”

“Ah!” Liam jumped as he screamed, colliding with Korey and toppling them both over into the snow, Macen’s sudden appearance next to them causing the others to whirl around.

“Macen, this is Theodric and Stiles.” Iordáin introduced them quickly, before either had a chance to become defensive. “The druid and the darach.”

“Oh!” The fairy smiled brightly at them and gestured for the group to follow. “My king wishes to speak to you, come, come!”

Stiles grunted and reached down to pull Korey upwards, Liam following a moment later. “Grow a spine, you two.”

“He pulled me down!” Korey protested feebly as Liam hugged him from behind, anger forgotten when the warrior kissed his cheek. 

“Hmm.” Stiles and Theodric led the group to a stop in front of the fairy mound, staying on the snow as a small procession of aes sídhe emerged from the dark passageway. They were all about the same size as Liam and Korey, though the king’s crown was tall enough to tower over Iordáin’s head, and while they each wore a different variant of Macen’s loincloth and eager grin, their skin shades were all the same dark tone. “Greetings, I am the druid, Stiles, and this is Theodric, darach of the mountain clan.” He smirked at his friend when Theodric looked at him in surprise. _You have to accept it now! You and Iordáin are too perfect for each other not to join them._

“Greetings!” The Fairy King’s voice had a strange, high-pitched musical quality to it. “I am the great and powerful Nolan!”

“Nolan…” Stiles echoed woodenly as Liam and Korey stared at the Fae. “Um, very well, you have heard of our plight, Nolan?”

“I have, I see it around me, and I have spoken to the other aes sídhe across the land.” The king tilted his head back to look up at him, his crown teetering unsteadily until Macen stood behind him and held the ornate, golden monstrosity upright. “Ice grips the earth, the animals still sleep, or they are starving, feral-wolves run amok. Is this your doing, human?” 

“Not exactly.” Theodric replied. “There is a curse at work; powerful, dark magic that is being channelled in the northern lands. We believe a single clan is responsible, hoping to attack the southern villages and take control of the fertile valleys and rich mountains on our side of the divide.”

“We have the knowledge to break this curse.” Stiles added, motioning for Liam and Korey to stay quiet when they tried to talk. “But not the means, our connection to the Tuatha Dé Danann has been severed, and so we look to unusual sources for aid. The counter-spell must be performed under the stars to work effectively.”

“Hmm.” Nolan fixed the druid with a beady gaze, before nodding as Macen whispered in his ear. “Very well! For tonight our power will be joined, the southern lands cannot remain in winter’s icy grip! But, be warned, druid, the aes sídhe will not be drawn into a war between men and house-wolves!”

“What are-” Liam started, getting cut off by Stiles’ hushed whisper.

“Tame werewolves, now be silent!”

“Fear not, Nolan.” Theodric spoke up quickly. “We have no desire to see Fae blood spilled in defense of our lands, but this curse affects us all. Is there anything in particular you would like in return? Some sheep perhaps?” Iordáin elbowed him in the ribs sharply as the king and Macen frowned. “Or something else?”

“No, darach, no need for that, hehe.” Nolan smiled at them, eyes glinting mischievously. “The mountains are far from here, we don’t want anything from _you!_ ”

Theodric glanced at Stiles, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Lock up the sheep when you get back!”

“Thanks,” Stiles muttered and shook his head slightly, looking back at the king. “What now?”

 

Macen led them deeper into the forest, along secret trails free of snow and ice, and through thorn-filled tunnels that forced Stiles and Iordáin to duck their heads as Liam and Korey walked with ease, Theodric only lowering himself from time to time. The other Fae were shadowing them, but Stiles couldn’t see the aes sídhe, only hearing their high voices. “How much further?”

“Almost there, druid, almost!” Macen gestured for them to hurry, looking back at Stiles with a grin, “See? There it is, the burial grove of our people!”

“These Fair Folk are very excitable.” Iordáin muttered to Theodric, letting Liam and Korey enter the clearing first. “Are you certain about this?”

“As in, do I think that we’re being led into a trap and will be ravished for all time by a clan of sheep-stealing Fae?” Theodric grinned at the hunter’s horrified expression. “No, Iordáin, be calm, the aes sídhe are strange creatures, but are rarely so cunning; they would have taken us outside the mound if that was their intention.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“Theodric?” Stiles called out, gesturing for the darach to join him. “Can you feel the power here?”

“Indeed.” Theodric murmured, looking around at the stone circle, tall pillars of natural rock curved and pulled into shapes resembling fangs as the same bright green grass of the fairy mound surrounded the outside of the ring. At the center was a low, flat rock that could be used as an altar, and dozens of small, curled-in-on-themselves figures of the aes sídhe, unmoving and naked, but otherwise flawless, as though they were all sleeping. 

They joined Macen, Liam, and Korey inside the circle, Iordáin gasping as he looked up. The sky above the stone circle was utterly unlike the grey, snow-pregnant clouds they had just left, instead it was decorated with a gleaming sheet of stars, colors, and patterns he had never seen in all his many travels. It took Theodric’s hand on his arm to pull the hunter back to the moment. “Wow.”

“Don’t get mesmerised, I need your strength.”

“I know, I’m here.” Iordáin smiled at him, and flexed his arm, trapping Theodric’s hand between his strong muscles, the darach smirking and pulling himself free. “What are you going to do?”

“Stiles will tap into the power here, using it to pull our enemy’s spirit through the Otherworld and force it to manifest here, where I will fight it and destroy the curse,” The darach paused, adding, “which will also appear.”

“That sounds…”

“Exactly.” Theodric forced a smile and went over to Stiles. “Are you prepared?”

“The counter-spell is easy; the berries of a rowan, bark of a young oak of no more than five summers, and the infusion of power from an uncorrupted source.” Stiles pulled the berries and bark from pouches on his belt and laid them on the flat stone in the middle of the ring. “When you are ready, we will begin contacting the spirits of the Fae that rest here.”

“Like the Revenant?” Iordáin asked, swallowing uncomfortably.

“No. What have you done?” Stiles glared at Theodric, the darach flushing and looking away. “That is a creature of evil. But with me as his balance, Theodric will be able to rouse their power and channel it without it becoming corrupted, right?”

“Yes, Stiles.” Theodric muttered, shaking his head as Iordáin began to speak. “It’s not your fault: druids and darachs always have tension over these things. Let’s begin.”

 

Liam glanced at the hunter when Iordáin stood next to him, placing his quiver on the ground and stringing his bow again. “Are they prepared?”

“I believe they have started casting.” Iordáin looked over his shoulder at where Stiles and Theodric were staring intensely at the stone between them while Macen stood nearby, bare feet planted in the ground, a hand on each of their shoulders. There was a barely visible surge of green and black light flowing up his legs and down his arms. “We need to be ready.”

“Here,” Korey walked over to them, handing them each a sword and putting his whetstone back into his belt. “Stiles hasn’t said what we’ll be facing, but if they get close, we should be able to fend whatever they are off.”

“Wow, look!” Liam pointed at the area in front of them, behind Theodric, as a strange, murky pool of light hung in the air and slowly resolved into a clearer image. It was a woman with long, flowing black hair, and glowing silver-blue eyes, surrounded by three kneeling figures, their faces and bodies obscured by thick, black hooded cloaks, red and orange light flowing from them into her. The woman seemed to notice the group in the stone circle, the icy beam of magic leaving her fingertips faded away and she laughed, high and cruel.

“Of all the druids in the southern lands it would be _you,_ wouldn’t it, Stiles?”

Theodric watched his friend’s expression grow harder than he’d ever seen it, rising with him when Stiles stood, “You know her?”

“Findabair; a greedy and bloodied wretch.” Stiles turned and looked at the image, “I thought you had died.”

“So did the werewolves.” She smirked, approaching the edge of the image, almost appearing to emerge into the circle. “But you are not the only clan with a Nemeton, and my new one has been receiving much better gifts than you bestow on your…well-endowed chieftain.”

“Stiles,” Theodric called out, seeing his hands curl into balls. “The curse?”

“Ah, of course.” The druid laughed himself, echoing her cold voice. “I never though I would have this opportunity, Findabair, but when fate knocks, we answer!” He thrust his hand forward, smashing the palm into the center of the image, cracks appearing across it as the woman scrambled backwards. “Prepare yourselves, the battle begins!” 

“Ahhh!” Findabair manifested in front of them, the three hooded figures falling out of the vertical pool of light behind her. With another shriek, the woman launched herself at them, Stiles rolling out of the way as Theodric crossed his arms and a crack echoed around the stone ring, her attack deflected by bony limbs flashing in front of the darach. “Oh, a necromancer too? And so much power! I shall have to take that from you, my pretty!”

“No!” Iordáin notched an arrow to his bow and fired it at her, distracting Findabair long enough for Theodric to dive out of her way. The arrow was plucked from her skin as though it were nothing more than an irritating wasp sting. “Stay back!” He pushed Liam and Korey behind him, stopping when the woman threw herself to the ground hands touching the bodies of the aes sídhe, making them rise. “What…”

“Spirits!” Macen cried out, watching his ancestors pull themselves upright, dead eyes staring at him. The Fae looked at the hunter, “Shoot them! I’ll get the others!”

“But-”

“Look out!” Liam pushed Korey aside when one of the hooded men swiped at him with a golden sickle. Iordáin was busy fighting back the undead, and Theodric and Stiles were disappearing and reappearing all over the stone circle, Findabair chasing them, Liam knew it was up to him to protect the smith. “Rawr!” He roared loud and low, his eyes glowing yellow, fangs pushing his teeth aside, and powerful claws springing out from his fingers, muscles bunching and straining his clothes. The cloak was too restraining, and Liam ripped it off, charging towards one of the men still threatening Korey. “Get off him!”

“Ahhh!” Korey yelled, shrinking back as he watched Liam pull the man away from him with ease and throwing him out of the circle. There was an unpleasant crackle and a poof of white smoke, nothing left behind save for the black cloak. He scrambled upright and unsheathed his sword, jumping in to join Liam in the fight, sparing a glance to see Iordáin firing arrows at Findabair whenever she appeared.

“ _Tar amach, Revenant!_ ” Theo cried out, appearing long enough to rip a hole in the earth under their feet, his monster pulling itself upright, just as before. The darach faded back into the Otherworld and the Revenant stumbled forward, sword swinging out in a vicious arc to tear one of the undead aes sídhe in half when it threatened Iordáin, and remained standing protectively beside the hunter as he chased Findabair with his arrows.

Stiles stepped into the Otherworld with a disturbing ease, the borrowed power of the Fae making the transition as simple as blinking his eyes. The stone circle was almost exactly the same there, but his own abilities were amplified, able to draw up the very ground itself to trap and keep Findabair from moving, her irritated shrieks causing him to smile. Theodric was just as effective in his attacks, dark lightning forming in the darach’s hands and smashing into her over and over until finally an icy shield cracked and split across her chest. “Look!” They watched as the curse appeared in the real world, Findabair snarling at him in the Otherworld.

“This isn’t over, Stiles! You think you wept when I took your father from you?!” She laughed manically even as they stepped back from the magical realm. “I will burn your village to ash and wear your chieftain’s bones as a necklace!”

“Silence and begone!” Theodric flicked his hand at her, banishing the woman back to her place in the real world. He grunted as they landed hard in the center of the stone circle, Stiles gripping his arm hard. “The curse!”

“Fear not, darach!” Macen smiled at him, Nolan and the other aes sídhe had surrounded the white, spiked ball, tendrils of ivy and moss covering their arms and smothering the curse. The dead had fallen back asleep when Findabair had been vanquished, Theodric’s Revenant along with them, though the hooded men were still present. Liam was checking on Korey, the smith having been thrown to the ground, his right arm bent at an unnatural angle, Stiles darting over to him. Theodric’s attention was fixed on the way the Fae purified the curse, not seeing the other hooded man charge towards Iordáin.

“Ah!” Iordáin grunted and cursed when he felt the sickle cut his arm, his quiver empty and his hunting knife out of reach. He clamped a hand on the wound, blinking when the man suddenly disappeared, white smoke erupting a moment later.

“Are you hurt?” A horrific, monstrous face appeared before him; ridged brow, glowing yellow eyes, and barbarous fangs emerging from the mouth as a clawed hand reached for him. “Ior-”

“Ywaaa!” Iordáin roared and shoved the monster onto the ground, catching it by surprise, wrenching his knife from its sheath and preparing to bury the blade in its bare, muscular chest. “Die, werewolf!”

“No!” Korey dived on Iordáin and pulled him off the werewolf. “That’s Liam!”

“Be still, Iordáin!” Theodric shouted out from across the circle, hurrying over to him. “It is Liam.”

“But, I saw, the fangs, the eyes…” The hunter looked between them as Liam stood up, his features returned to human and his expression upset. “Apologies, I, I didn’t know you were a house-wolf.”

“Now you do,” Liam grinned suddenly, extending his arm down to Iordáin. “And you know that our clan is more about big dicks!”

 

Stiles glared at the fractured image of Findabair in front of him, Macen and Nolan having just broken the curse and returning it to the earth alongside their ancestors. He could no longer hear what the woman was saying to him, nor could he see the twisted features of the two werewolves who were standing behind her, only their dark hair and glowing eyes being clear. The blue-eyed one was speaking, but Stiles kept his attention on the red-eyed one, nodding slowly to himself as the old stories came back to him. “We will meet soon enough, Halh clan, and you, Findabair, you will pay for killing my father all those years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuatha Dé Danann (tribe of the gods)
> 
> Findabair the Irish name for Gwenhwyfar which is the old name for Jennifer, the Irish meaning being "The White Enchantress" which seems appropriate!
> 
> Halh: The Old English surname for Hale, meaning a nook, hollow, or recess.


	4. Imbolc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content in this chapter-see the notes-please practice safe sex in the real world!

The pounding beats of drum music spilled out of the roundhouse and flooded around the bonfire in the center of the village, the clan dancing and singing and twirling around each other in joyous celebration. Other fires nearby provided both lighting and space to cook large joints of meat, Scotti having declared that two of the clan’s sheep be killed in honor of Findabair’s evil curse being broken, and the birth of his first child, many more of whom were to follow through the night. The mead flowed freely and Theodric smiled to himself as he watched some of the warriors stagger around, Stiles’ special herbs added to their goblets to allow their bodies to get drunk. 

The darach slipped out of the cold air, snow melting around them, seeking Iordáin, but hanging back when he found him. Theodric watched and nodded as he saw the hunter in deep conversation with the clan’s two traders and their leatherworker. He smirked, hearing talk about trade and bartering; the mountain clan were well known for their skilled smiths and strong weapons, and while Scotti may have liked to think that their fertility was his clan’s greatest asset, Theodric knew that it was really their proximity to the Nemeton and connection to the gods. 

He shrugged and left Iordáin to his conversation, lingering for a moment to make sure the hunter wasn’t suffering any pain from his healed wounds. Stiles had offered to bandage them, but Macen had snapped his fingers and suddenly Korey’s arm was fixed and Iordáin’s cuts were no longer bleeding. Theodric had eyed the Fae uneasily, but the hunter hadn’t displayed any signs of Fae corruption, and it seemed that perhaps this clan of Fair Folk weren’t the same that had stolen his sheep all those years before.

“Come this way!” Korey cried out, breaking Theodric from his thoughts, Liam laughing and following the smith.

“I’m coming! Well, I soon will be!”

“Ugh,” Theodric rolled his eyes, moving out of the way as Scotti grinned drunkenly at him and staggered past, following the other two. “Make sure you don’t break the smith, Scotti!”

“Haha! My warrior is well used to taking me!” The Chieftain boomed, and swung back around to Theodric, both hands clutching goblets, mead slopping out. “All my warriors are!”

The darach smirked and nodded, letting him leave. He couldn’t see Stiles inside the roundhouse, and the druid wasn’t at the feast itself. “Probably stewing in old hatreds,” Theodric muttered, swinging his black cloak over himself and stepped out of the roundhouse. “He’s out by the perimeter wall, if nothing has changed from before.”

 

“Hurry!” Liam gestured at Korey, already down to his trousers and leaning over to press his lips against the smith’s cheek as Korey smirked at him. “I’ve been waiting all day!”

“I will go as fast as I want.” He paused, allowing Liam to kiss him properly, a moment of intense pleasure sweeping over him when Liam’s tongue slipped inside his mouth and brushed against his own. Korey broke off, and pushed his trousers down, stepping out of them as Liam’s eyes lit up, first with desire and then with bright yellow light.

“Crap.” The warrior blinked a few times, and his eyes returned to normal as he looked sheepishly at Korey. “Apologies.”

“Be calm,” He smiled at Liam, thinking back to the previous Imbolc where the warrior had talked to him for the first time as an equal as they performed the ceremony with Stiles that would have him recognised as a man among the village. But as soon as they had left the ritual house, Liam had instantly forgotten about him as he was gathered up in a circle of warriors and Scotti, and Korey was left to sit on his own at the edge of the festival. He was jerked back to the present when Liam put his hand in Korey’s, smiling at him.

“Are you well?”

“Better than well.” The smith returned his grin and reached out to tug Liam’s trousers down. He could hear Scotti talking to one of his many wives outside their curtained off sleeping area, but Korey blocked the Chieftain out once he could see Liam’s cock, already hard, springing up from where it was contained. “Wow! It seems bigger than before!”

“Not as big as Scotti’s, I hope?” Liam lowered his hand to fondle the head of his cock, precum beginning to leak as he stared at the muscular perfection of Corey’s body; hard from the days spent hammering bronze and smelting copper and tin in his forge. “You were in a lot of pain after he took you, I don’t want that to happen here.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad, I just couldn’t walk for a few days!” Korey giggled, remembering that morning. He shrugged and sunk to his knees, looking up at Liam. “I would be happy to have that problem again, though!”

“Ugh!” Liam groaned when he felt the touch of Korey’s mouth on the head of his cock, the kiss of his lips and a quick lick before the smith pulled away, grinning at him as the slightly cool air made Liam’s dick quiver. “Go on.” He whispered, one hand cupping Korey’s face, the other running down his own chiselled torso. “That’s it!” 

“Mmmh!” Korey mumbled around the thickness. Liam’s cock was both long and girthy, and he had yet to manage to get more than a third into his warm wet mouth, and even though that must have been frustrating to Liam, he never pushed into him roughly. Instead, the warrior moved his hand to Korey’s hair and gently gripped him, pulling him on and off his cock with smooth, determined motions, Korey letting him take control and allowing himself to curl his hand around his own cock, jerking off in time to his sucking.

“Ah!” Liam moaned when Korey stopped sucking suddenly, his tongue focusing on the exposed tip as his large, heavy balls were tingling, so close to release. They hadn’t had time for themselves since Theodric and Iordáin had arrived to help Stiles with the curse, but Liam didn’t want it to be over yet, and neither did Korey. The smith smirked at him as Liam pushed his slick cock head against his lips and face, smearing salvia and precum across his skin. “I’m close.”

“I know, that’s why I’m stopping.” Korey stood up, moving closer to him, resting his arms next to Liam’s neck and pulling him close, a quick kiss and then they broke apart as Korey’s cock pushed against Liam’s, naturally shorter than the warriors, but still sending shivers of pleasure across them both. “Ah! Fuck!”

“You didn’t wait for me!”

They turned at the upset tone of the Chieftain, grinning at each other as Scotti stood inside their sleeping area, completely naked, his massive cock fully risen and the head glistening with precum. Liam stepped forwards, his hand entwining with Korey’s to pull him along, both of them getting on their knees in front of Scotti with practiced ease. The Chieftain’s cock was too big for either one of them to suck comfortably, and Scotti always said that he enjoyed the feeling of two mouths against his cock anyway. 

“Ahhh!” Scotti groaned loudly, arching his back and thrusting his cock between their lips, grinning as he watched the length get sucked and kissed, their tongues lashing over whatever part of it they could access, lips sucking on the fleshy pole until Scotti placed his hands on their heads and pulled back, guiding Liam and Korey towards his tip. “Ah, yeah!” Scotti smirked at them as they each took turns to sweep their tongues across his sensitive tip, before pausing and making out with each other, Scotti’s cock slipping between their mouths and lips as they did so. “Enough, enough!” The Chieftain groaned, his hands back on his chest, rubbing his hard nipples and sweeping over sweat-slick skin that gleamed in the torchlight. “Are you taking him, Liam?”

“I will.” The warrior nodded, eying Scotti’s dripping cock. “You can fuck me once I prepare Korey.”

“Great!” Scotti motioned them towards the bed, throwing himself into a chair nearby and casually stroking his cock with both hands. “I want to watch.”

“Very well.” Korey smirked at Liam and got on his hands and knees on the bed, arching his ass and shaking it slightly at him. “I bathed before the festival, a very _thorough_ bathing.”

“You mean…” Liam panted, excitement rushing through his voice as he crouched behind Korey, massaging his ass cheeks and pulling them open to look at his smooth crack and the deep pink hole winking slightly at him. The warrior didn’t waste any more time with words and crashed his face against Korey’s ass, hands keeping him spread open, tongue licking a wide stripe down and across his pucker, hesitating a moment until he heard the smith’s soft groans and grinning as he flicked the wet tip of his tongue inside.

“Ahh!” Korey bucked back against him, unwittingly pushing Liam further in, the pressure of his tongue in that most sensitive of places causing stars to explode in front of his lidded eyes. It was somehow even more arousing to know that Scotti was watching Liam rim him, and Korey fisted in his cock just enough to make his entire body shudder from pleasure, releasing it before he got too close to going over the edge. “Ah! Oh, oh, gods! Oh!”

“Mmph!” Liam’s cries of delight and lust were muffled by Korey’s butt cheeks, but he didn’t care, hooking his arms around Korey’s legs and pulling his ass closer, tongue licking around the hole and slapping against it as Korey shouted his pleasure loudly. He pulled back to look over his shoulder as Scotti stood up, the crown of his cock covered in precum and his fingers slick with oil from the little pot on Korey’s bedside. Liam nodded and turned his attention back to the smith’s ass even as he felt Scotti’s fingers push inside his hole, slippery and rough at the same time, the right amount of burn for Liam to moan eagerly into Korey.

“You ready?” Scotti’s voice was a husky drawl as he rubbed the length of his cock up and down Liam’s crack, one hand holding his shaft, the other pulling a muscular ass cheek open. Liam’s head bobbed up and down and Scotti grinned, positioning his tip against Liam’s hole, watching as it flexed and winked around his head, milking out a pearl of precum to glide his way inside. “Here. We. Go!” Scotti grunted, pushing his cock inside while pulling Liam backwards to impale his ass on the giant dick, only the tip of Liam’s tongue remaining against Korey’s ass, unwilling to break contact for even a moment.

“Ah!” Liam cried out, bowing his head suddenly, Korey forgotten as pain accompanied by pleasure ripped across his body, his hole on fire before it evened out for a moment until Scotti started moving. It was almost as though the Chieftain’s cock had gotten larger, but Liam’s mind was soon freed of all thoughts as Korey lined himself up and pushed back, filling his ass with Liam’s cock. The warrior was overloaded with pleasure from both sides, unable to do anything except go along for the ride. 

Scotti was doing most of the work anyway, the Chieftain setting a fast pace; every time he pulled back, Korey slammed his ass further onto Liam’s cock, and every time Scotti rammed back into him, Liam jerked forward, bottoming out in Korey. “Fuck! Ah! Fuck, I can’t!” He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Korey’s torso, giving up all resistance and letting Scotti use him, wincing when the Chieftain slapped his ass cheek in that tell-tale way of letting him know the finish wasn’t far off. “Go! Please, Scotti!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Liam.” Scotti grinned at him and gripped Liam’s waist tight, his fingers digging into the warrior’s hips and pushing the final inches into him. “AH! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Yeah! Take it! Take it!” The Chieftain yelled loud enough for the whole village to hear as his cock head shuddered and torrents of cum fired into Liam’s ass, filling him completely and leaking out around Scotti’s cock as he pulled back slightly, the less-than-perfect seal allowing the cum spill out onto Korey’s floor. “Ah! That’s it! Barely anyone is as tight as you, Liam!”

“Uh, thanks?” Liam glanced over his shoulder as Scotti staggered out of the sleeping are and back to the festivities, likely seeking someone to clean his still-hard cock and be fucked again. “Are you well?” The warrior spoke to Korey, “He wasn’t too rough?”

“It was great.” Korey bit his lip as he let Liam pull his cock out and rolled onto his back, legs spread wide as he took the pot of oil and slicked his hole, letting Liam stare hungrily at him. “You?”

“Give me a moment.” Liam admitted with a grin, “Scotti is too self-obsessed at feast times.” He nodded again and moved back to Korey, a softer smile on his lips as he lined up and pushed back inside his hole with ease, grunting as his balls touched the smooth surface of Korey’s ass. He bent over, kissing the smith and holding the position as long as he could, their tongues slipping past each other’s lips to touch and tease, until the warrior was forced to start fucking Korey when his cock throbbed needily.

“Yes!” Korey panted, rolling his head back, eyes closed as he gave himself up to the sensations, no longer concentrating on anything other than the pleasure Liam was giving him with each slow thrust of his dick, each careful withdrawal, and perfect snap of his hips to deliver a deep, not quite painless jolt in Korey’s center. “Yes…”

“Greetings!” 

“Ah!” Korey’s eyes flicked open, staring at Liam who had halted in mid-stroke. “Um…”

“How did you get here?” The warrior frowned as Macen smiled at them, the enthusiastic Fae walking over and stopping next to the bed, his loincloth absent, but cock already fully hard. “Uh, greetings, I suppose.”

“It is hard to manifest inside a human’s house,” Macen shrugged, placing a hand on Liam’s shoulder and another on Korey’s stomach. “But it matters not, I thought you would want to frolic tonight!”

“I thought we needed meadows for that?” Korey asked, his cock twitching as Macen’s warm hand inched closer towards it, feeling Liam’s dick shudder inside him. 

“Frolicking can be done anywhere! Though, perhaps you would prefer to wait for the sun to be high and the day to be long.” Macen turned to go, but both Korey and Liam grabbed his arms and the Fae smiled mischievously at them. “Very well, I see you are already joined, I would not break that up, but this…” He moved behind Liam and cupped the warrior’s cheeks, slipping a hand between the clenched muscles to run a finger up his crack and touched his hole long enough to slip the long digit inside. “Yes, this I will take!” Macen whispered as Liam moaned and bucked into Korey. The Fae’s cock was more like Korey’s than Scotti’s, and he pushed into Liam in one smooth motion, gripping the warrior’s shoulders as support. “Ah!”

“Oh, fuck!” Liam grunted, unable to move as Macen rocked back and forth eagerly, his cock sliding in and out of him quick and easy. “That’s so good!”

“Start with Korey,” Macen replied throatily, waiting for Liam to climb fully onto the bed and re-bury himself in Korey’s ass. The Fae remained behind him, adding his pressure to Liam’s dick as the warrior bucked between them, fucking Korey harder now, as Macen’s dick pounded his cum-filled, clenching ass. 

“Ahhh!” Liam groaned low and loud, helping Korey jerk his cock, a puddle of precum making the head slick as he felt Macen press against him, the Fae’s hard nipples and lean torso pressing against his back. Korey’s legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tighter, though battling for space as Macen draped himself around Liam’s back, fucking him with quick, sharp thrusts that only caused more moans to rip from his throat. “Ah! Yes! Gods, yes! So good!” 

“Mmmh!” Korey moaned, looking at Liam, able to see Macen’s darker skin against the warrior’s body, somehow more erotic than the recent memory of Scotti watching him get rimmed. They were all close now, he could feel his cock trembling in both their hands, sweat was glistening on his skin, the same way it caused Liam’s tanned flesh to gleam, and even the Fae was moaning incomprehensible words as he rammed Liam’s ass over and over. “Ah, ah, ah! I can’t hold on any longer!” Korey cried out, gasping as he came seconds later, cum spilling across his chest and stomach, coating his and Liam’s hands. 

“Ah yieeeeeeee!” Macen roared behind them, his shout of pleasure coming just as he pulled out of Liam’s ass, spraying the warrior’s back with cum, and collapsing his head on Liam’s shoulder with a grunt.

“Oh, gods, oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkkk!” Liam howled, eyes glowing yellow as he shot his load into Korey. “Ahhhh! Yes!”

 

Theodric paused as he passed the last row of fields before the land turned to wilderness, glancing back at the village. “I swear I could’ve-”

“Scotti, no doubt.” Stiles answered for him, gesturing for Theodric to join him at the boundary wall. He was staring into the distance, towards the divide, the entrance into the northern lands, many days’ travel from the village. “He will have his way with many of the clan tonight, but with his children born, Scotti will need to take his role as Chieftain more seriously.”

“Agreed.” Theodric rested his hands against the stones and looked at Stiles. “You weren’t at the festivities? I did not see you there.”

“You were speaking with Iordáin, I did not wish to disturb you.” Stiles gestured vaguely at him. “But I performed the adulthood ritual for the last time, at least, the last for another fifteen cycles until the children grow up…if they grow up.”

“What is your meaning?”

“The Halh clan have made their intentions clear enough, Findabair wished to strike at all the southern lands, that was why she was surprised by my being the one to break the curse.”

“Stiles, what happened before…” Theodric trailed off as he caught a look at Stiles’ expression, the moon overhead illuminating his face. “Your father, your…old clan-”

“That was a long time ago, Scotti’s clan is mine now.” The druid clenched his fists and Theodric could feel the magic rising around him. “But I never forgot what Findabair did, I won’t go seeking her out if that is what concerns you, however, should she venture past the divide, I will show her the true fury of the wild!”

The darach remained silent for a few moments, waiting for him to calm down. “I understand you are angry, that you want vengeance for the blood that was spilled, but-”

“Three clans, Theodric!” Stiles growled, “Three clans went to Findabair and offered tribute if she would send her feral werewolves back to the Otherworld, but she just laughed in their faces and watched as the Halh wolves ripped my parents apart, Scotti’s parents, yours, all of them!”

“You can’t be certain that was how it happened.”

“Dictone took me there, remember?” Stiles’ eyes were faraway, trapped in the memory. “He declared Scotti as Chieftain just in case and told you to guard the clan; not even men with such responsibility, but that was all that were left. And we went north, back across the divide, back home. My village was on fire, smoke clouds visible once you crossed the marshes, and nothing but blood and bone and flesh left strewn about our holdings. I couldn’t even recognise which one was my mother, but my father, he held on, long enough to tell me the monsters that had done this, long enough to pass his clan onto me.”

“What? You never told me that.” Theodric frowned, placing his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I thought your father wanted Dictone to train you, that’s why you came south.”

“It matters not,” Stiles shrugged his hand away. “There was nothing left of that clan, those who weren’t killed were taken as slaves. As I said, Scotti’s clan is mine now.”

“Very well.” Theodric nodded slowly. “Do you think they are ready for war?”

“No.” The druid answered with a heavy sigh. “A weapon forged with the gods’ power might help, but…”

“We could remake the old alliances, Stiles.” Theodric smiled as the thought flashed across his mind. “Iordáin is within, speaking to the clan for the purposes of trade, and the mountain clan are powerful smiths and deadly warriors. We would need their aid to turn back the Halh wolves.”

“Perhaps.”

“Do not forget about the house-wolves that live next to the lakes and fish the rivers; in tune with their Fae in a way that grants them much protection.” Theodric grinned. “I know that Íosác would help us, he always has good things to say at the gathering of the clans during Beltaine.”

“Two clans may not be enough,” Stiles nodded, understanding where his friend was going. “But there is clan in the far south, you do not know them, the sun shines bright and they enjoy it on their skin. Good traders, but their true skill lies in the creation of spells and potions, all overseen by two twin brothers, druid and darach, able to unify in a way that would greatly aid our ability to fight Findabair head on.”

“What about the clan whose village is closest to the divide?”

“Bah!” Stiles cursed, “I do not trust snakes at the best of times, Theodric, let alone those who walk on two legs and have the claws of a wolf.”

“They have reason to hate the Halh clan now as much as you do,” The darach argued, “Findabair cursed them, cruel and unusual, not werewolves, not snakes, but stuck between. Their Chieftain can be vain and arrogant, but I have had dealings with their druid and she is easier to speak with, though the rumor is that she is of the Fae.”

“Better watch their sheep then.” Stiles smirked at him, his expression lightening.

“They have none.” Theodric replied. “Very suspicious.”

“Indeed.” The druid turned away and started back towards the village, Theodric walking along side him, the snows melting and grass beginning to appear underfoot. “Unless the Halh clan have abandoned all civility, they will not attack us until the war season starts once Beltaine has passed. This gives us precious time to plan and send envoys to the other clans.”

“Agreed.” Theodric smiled at him, stopping a passing farmer to take the two goblets of mead from his hands with a wink. “But for now, Stiles, enjoy Imbolc, we will plan and plot and scheme in the morning!”

“Hmm.” Stiles nodded, taking a sip as he watched a naked Scotti talk to Malia, the young woman laughing and shoving him playfully as Iordáin and Theodric joined him by the bonfire, talking quietly and exchanging a kiss with each other. He smiled at the clan around him, silently swearing that Findabair would never do to them what she had done to his father’s people. _There will be a reckoning soon enough, and you will pay for everything you have done…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story will take place at Beltaine, sometime in May, with the gathering of the clans, and a whole host of new characters! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to meld the modern names with those found more commonly in the period, with the exception of Stiles & Malia. Ciara is the best I could do for Kira though, which I think is close in sound at least. The others should be obvious enough, I think.
> 
> Domhnall is the Gaelic version of Daniel (as in Danny) Say it: Dough-null
> 
> Ogma: Considered a deity, and known for both his strength in battle and the invention the Ogham alphabet 
> 
> Iordáin: The Irish version of "Jordan". Deputy Parrish didn't quite translate, lol! Say it: Ear-daawn
> 
> Lugh: Celtic god of skill, crafts, the arts, and a few other areas. Often depicted as a youthful warrior hero.
> 
> Alban Arthuan: The Celtic celebration of the Winter Solstice.
> 
> Imbolc: The Celtic festival signalling the start of spring, the birthing of lambs, and fertility/vitality.


End file.
